


Crayon Wall

by Besin



Series: Queens-Verse [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Besin/pseuds/Besin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recovering from a heroine addiction, Namine wants nothing more that to be free from her craving for the needle. Her new line of paintings are out, and everyone gathers to see her work, curious to discover if the rumor that she painted clean is true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crayon Wall

My name is Naminé Stoner, and I'm a recovering Heroin addict.   
  
I said it. Happy? No? Well fuck you, too.   
  
Moving on, I'm here to talk about sex. It's on everyone's mind all the time. If you talk to a fully grown man or woman of sound mind and body they'll admit to entertaining at least the idea of sex about twice a day. If they don't own up they're lying. I digress, after quitting heroine I didn't sleep around much. At first I thought it would help, but in the end everything just got worse. When I'd wake up the world would be just as ugly with just as many stupid things that needed to be blocked out. The craving would be there every time to rear its ugly head and me and Mr. Addiction would be back on square one. Again. But this time I'd have an empty bed, a full condom, a pregnancy test to pursue the next day, and nothing to show for it. But I never turned down an invitation.   
  
Sex with Kairi had been different.   
  
Don't get me wrong; I'm not into girls. Not that being a Lesbian's a bad thing- it's just not for me. The fact of that matter is that sex with her had been different. For one, there was no full condom or pregnancy test. She was also there when I woke up, petting my hair and laying kisses across my forehead. This wasn't some hotel fuck- she'd seriously liked me, and a one-time thing had fulfilled her, it seemed. She could move on, look back on the event fondly. During the act she seemed to pull out every trick in the Lesbian Book or something. It certainly  _felt_  that way. The girl did wonders with her tongue, not that I'm going to tell  _you_  about it.   
  
Once again, I digress. The point of the matter is that Mr. Addiction wasn't as bad that morning. He remained in the shadows, slinking around the edges and taunting me vaguely over a cup of coffee and a rushed buttered toast as we prepared for another day at work.   
  
A month after Kairi and I had sex my line was finished.   
  
Usually painting takes longer, but I had photos to model from so it didn't take nearly the amount of creative-juice as they usually did. I just needed to tweak the perspective a bit.   
  
In every shot, though, she was beautiful. This could not be denied. Before long I had a show lined up, and people were lining up and filing into that old downtown-but-uptown gallery to observe and critique my work.   
  
Now, my little sister, Xion, has this way about talking on the phone that rubs everyone the wrong way. For that reason she prefers to talk to people in person. At sixteen, the girl was still living with Mom and Dad, obviously, and Mom and Dad are Democratic Christian Lawyers. I, being a Liberal Agnostic Artist, am not on their list of favorite people in this world. It's been determined that my importance to them is equal to that of a straw. Fun while it lasted, but as soon as its purpose has been served you throw it away and it rots in a landfill.   
  
Least to say, Xion and I didn't see each other much. And so, when she showed up to my art show I was pleasantly surprised, and just a little touched. But since my fans- and one or two important people- were there we couldn't spend much time together. Everyone flooded me with questions, apt to know me personally with my new-found popularity. And by everyone I mean  _everyone_ .   
  
The grand opening of the new line was something to be celebrated, it seemed. 'Naminé Stoner's new works, all under her new production,  _Human, Too_ ,' or something along those lines. They drew people to the old downtown-but-uptown gallery, appreciating my pieces between sips of cheap champagne and settling their weight on the exposed pipes along the walls.   
  
Maybe it was the rumor that I had painted clean.   
  
Maybe it was the rumor that I had fucked a lesbian.   
  
Maybe it was the article that Kairi published highlighting my background as an artist, putting me on display to the mainstream underground world. It was certainly what brought Xion.   
  
Luxord showed- it was strange to see him outside the little indie bar Kairi and I had seen him at. The vocalist made sure to say Hello, and that he couldn't stay for very long- had to get back to work. Apparently the man worked for the circus as his day job. Never would have guessed. But he stayed for much longer than he thought he would, and it made me very uneasy to see him trailing after my younger sister, especially since he was a good ten years older than her, if not more. Then again, she said once that she liked 'em tall. Must run in the family or something.   
  
And there- off to the side, sending me cheap glances now and again between leaning against a pipe and fitting a word in with Luxord's dialogue- was that old shadow from my past that everyone had somewhere in their life. Tall, dark, and... Well, some would call him handsome. Dreadlocks trailed from his skull, sideburns clung to his hard, strong jaw, and muscles bulged beneath a freshly pressed dress shirt. There was no mentioning the jeans, as they were as unremarkable as they were form-fitting. Meaning they sent a familiar thrill up my spine with how the mystery of his lower half was not truly a puzzle should my memories have any weight. But if he was there, then-   
  
“Naminé,” a familiar voice behind me drawled, bringing to mind a kitten drowning in machine oil. I tugged on the edges of my dress in a nervous habit as I turned to face the man. Gaunt, with striking green eyes and hair finer than silk, draping his shoulders in flat waves of almost-gold. “It's so good to see that you're painting again.   
  
Right. And the Easter Bunny enjoys the rising price of chocolate. “Vexen,” I greeted, though with much less enthusiasm than I had treated the others to. “It's been a while.”   
  
“Yes. You're looking well.” He gave me a once-over. Had I not known him I would have thought him a sleaze, but the gaze was entirely professional. “How have the last few months been?”   
  
“Good,” I replied. Turning my gaze to a group of middle-aged women, I nodded. “Unfortunately, I must engage others. Have a nice night.” And with that I moved to walk away. However, a hand trailed across my wrist and lips were placed at my ear.   
  
“Naminé.” His voice was oil. “Are you interested in our new shipment?” Oil drowning kittens. “We're offering free trials.” So much oil.   
  
A fire set to burning somewhere in my brain, and all of a sudden my body was aching for the familiar burn in my veins. A substance to erase everything. A substance it had been craving for every. Fucking. Day. For so long.   
  
I paused, considering his offer. Slavery for pleasure. It was that simple. I could afford it, now. For a while, even. There would be nothing standing in my way.   
  
But a splash of black in a corner drew me away from my thoughts. Was it  _him_ , moving in on a target? No- it was Xion, chatting with one of the women before the painting of Kairi. Kairi the lesbian. Kairi the sweet. Kairi the girl who had fucked me so sound I almost considered going gay.   
  
There was no regretting that night with Kairi.   
  
By the time my mind came back to what was going on the horrible desire had mostly subsided and it was once again just a subtle temptation in the back of my mind.   
  
Then I knew that Mr. Addiction could be conquered, and I walked away.   
  
I tried to imagine the look on Vexen's face when I closed the back door behind me, pulling out a cigarette. Would he be shocked? Probably. The man prided himself on knowing how people thought, but he never considered variables. However a slack jaw never suited him. He'd either brush it off or be silently fuming.   
  
Speaking of variables, my little dark shadow chose that moment to open the door and join me in the alley for a smoke.   
  
We didn't get a chance.   
  
Within moments I was in his arms, hiding in the musk of his skin and revisiting the warmth of his embrace. His body was tall and strong around me, and a smile stole across my face.   
  
“I missed you.” The words barely made it above a whisper, nearly lost in the starch of his shirt or stuck in the tangled mess that was my throat.   
  
His face buried in my hair, breathing in the scent like a man possessed. “I know.” These words were familiar ones. The translator in my head decoded them, but could find no solid result. There was a familiar semblance, however. The imaginary translator twisted his words, decoded them, rewired itself and then  _“I love you,”_  was the closest it could come as emotion was not something this man's silver tongue was meant to convey.   
  
“Xaldin,” I began. “I-” Then he brought me up for a kiss and I was lost to the world for nearly five minutes and his lips set my body aflame. Nothing aside from his arms was home. Not some upscale apartment in Queens, complete with a studio and a wall of crayons. Nor was it an upper-middle-class house smack-dab in the middle of suburbia with two parents and a loving sister. No. Home was Xaldin's arms, where I was wanted- almost needed- with a passion that left my knees weak.   
  
And I loved him just as desperately.   
  
He knew it, too.   
  
“There is a time for everything,” he gasped, pulling away from the kiss. It was odd to see him short of breath. Had he missed me that badly? “We shouldn't allow ourselves to fall into this with Vexen so close at hand.”   
  
There it was. That silver tongue. Any other time I would have told him to shove it, pulled him in for another kiss in an attempt to show him just how much he had been missed, but the man had a point. Releasing his shirt was one of the hardest things I'd had to do in a while, and his arms tentatively pulled away in the same manner mine had. My face tingled where his stubble had rubbed it nearly raw, and we both took a few deep breaths until our lungs stopped demanding air. And he was lovely, lips plump and face flushed with passion. Such a small amount of attention could unwind the man in ways that left me baffled, even when I inspired the actions.   
  
To rewind a bit, this is when I started to think about sex. It was all that was on my mind at that exact moment. Sex. Lots of it. Specifically with Xaldin. I remembered when we used to have sex- when he'd practically cleave me in two and it felt  _amazing_ \- and he was all halfhearted control and barely-concealed expression. You'd expect such a large guy to be into something odd, like leather. Nope- plain vanilla.   
  
Anyways, that was probably more information than you were expecting. The point is that if you ask an average adult without any crippling mental disabilities on the street if they think about sex every day, even if they're a recovering heroin addict who can't control their cravings, they do. If they say they don't they're  _lying_ . Me? I think about it about three times a day, minimum. Random things spark it. Helps if you spend your days and nights painting naked women. Fact remains that sex is on the brain, no matter what you try to tell yourself when you're piling crayons against the wall in an attempt to make sense of the others things flying around your head.   
  
Things like life. Things like Xaldin.

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of Queens-Verse. Hope you guys liked it!


End file.
